


How They Radiate and Ignite

by apoptoses



Category: Basic Instinct (Movies), Bleeder (1999), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Lenny is an awkward mess, M/M, Madancy AU, Non-Penetrative Sex, excessive movie references, hannigram AU, slight infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8506366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apoptoses/pseuds/apoptoses
Summary: Lenny spends his time in the video store, hiding from the fact that his life is in stasis and his relationship is on the verge of falling apart. He can't find it in himself to care until an impulsive trip to the museum and a chance meeting changes everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devereauxs_Disease](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/gifts).



> So this is the piece that encapsulates [Baby's Ablaze](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8220079), but you don't need to have read it to read this since those events will come up later! 
> 
> This is also a birthday gift for devereauxs_disease, the only other person I know who adores dear Lenny ♥
> 
> Updates are slated to occur weekly.

_\---_

 

“Where are you going?” Lea asked, sitting the box of cereal and bowls on the kitchen table. “I thought we were going out today.”

Lenny tugged on his shoe. “I don’t feel like it. Besides, Kitjo called and said we got a box full of Lucio Fulci films in at the store, so I want to go check them out and get them shelved.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Why would I be kidding?”

Lea bit her lower lip, arms crossed over her chest. Next, Lenny knew, would come the tapping; her feet beating an angry rhythm against the floor. It was a routine they’d gone through almost weekly lately. Lea got angry about a change in plans. Lenny tried to brush it off. Lea nagged about his films and his work. Lenny acquiesced and rescheduled to her liking. Life went on.

“We do this every time I want to go somewhere, it’s ridiculous,” Lea spat out. “I don’t even understand why you put so much effort into chasing me into a relationship with you when all you really care about is your stupid films-”

“I do care! It’s just my job and-”

“Well you have a funny way of showing it! You don’t even hug me anymore, you snuck out of bed and slept on the sofa last night-” Lea listed off, voice rising in pitch. Lenny flinched under the weight of the accusations. “You’re obsessive about your movies. It’s weird, Lenny! And I don’t know if it has to do with what happened to your friends or what but you need to get out more-”

Standing, Lenny jammed his other shoe on and headed for the door. “Yeah. I’m going to get out. I’m going to get out of here.”

He slammed the door behind him, trying to ignore the way he could still hear Lea shouting as he left. 

 

_\---_

 

The store was a warren of shelves, all stacked to the ceiling with films organized in a way only Lenny could understand; directors, genres, and eras all mixed in a way that would seem nonsensical to a layman. It was his fortress; a defense he could retreat into when the world was too much, or not enough. Surrounded by films of fantastical people, he had always felt at home.

Until now, at least. Lea’s accusations had buried themselves beneath his skin, leaving him with the constant feeling that something was wrong; that the foundation of his life had been cracked, somehow.

Lenny had watched all number of films, even romance films. There were was always that moment where the relationship clicked, and the characters knew there was something intangible but real between them. Lenny had never had that click. Not with relationships, not with jobs, not with much of anything in his life.

The only thing he could do was refocus, he decided as he turned on the shop’s computer.

“I got an email from the guy who runs Playtime the other day,” Lenny said as Kitjo strolled out of the back room.

“Playtime? Isn’t that the place that gave you the job offer before?”

The job offer had been good, but it was across town. Lenny had said he wasn’t able to take it due to scheduling constraints, but privately, it was because he hadn’t felt like having to take the bus to get there.

“Yeah. He knows someone who does international film festivals. They wanted to know if I was interested in being on the committee.”

“You gonna do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lazy.” Kijto blew out a steady stream of smoke. “You want to go to the cinema after work? Get dressed up like we used to?”

Lenny shook his head. “It’s not the same without Leo and Louis.”

“All those bastards ever did was aggravate you by talking through the movie.”

“Still. It’s weird without that. It’s lonely.”

“So why don’t you ask Lea?”

“She doesn’t like films much.”

Kitjo raised a  brow and ashed his cigarette.  “So why are you with her still?”

Lenny opened and closed his mouth, searching for an answer. “Because there’s no one else?” he finally said.

“That’s a shit reason to go out with someone.”

Lenny shrugged. “If I don’t have Lea, I don’t have anything. Just you and the shop.”

“You should get out more, Lenny. You’re going to waste away in this shop,” he said. “One day I’m gonna come in here when I’m an old man and find you dead, with a stack of grindhouse films in your hand. You’ll have just croaked while shelving them.”

Lenny laughed. “Shut up.”

“It’s true.” Kitjo grinned. “I’ll put on your grave, ‘here lies Lenny, who died doing what he loved: shelving old fucking vhs tapes’.”

Lenny rubbed a hand over his face. His eyes felt numb from staring outside for so long. “Hey, did we get anything new in? I want to take something home to watch tonight.”

“There’s a box in back. You want me to come over and watch with you?”

“No, it’s okay. I have cleaning to do.”

“You sure?” Kitjo asked, face lined with concern.

“Yeah.”

Later that evening, after Lenny had dragged home a bag of new tapes in the pouring rain and put a pot of pasta to boil on his hot plate, Lenny looked around his apartment. It was small; walls papered with Bruce Lee posters and a heap of laundry pouring out of the basket and onto the floor.

Leo had stopped by once and likened it to a prison cell. Leo would have known, as he’d actually gone to prison for a very short stint. At the time Lenny had bristled at the remark, but tonight as he sat down in his rickety chair in front of his TV, bowl of pasta in his lap and remote in hand, the description felt more apt.

“At least in prison there would be someone else sharing the room,” Lenny mumbled to himself as he shuffled through the tapes, trying to decide which to watch first.

In the darkness of the room he sat alone, eating dinner and quietly watching his film.

 

\---

 

  _"I don't know if I can be with you anymore. You don't care about anything but your work and your movies. It's too hard. We should talk."_

Lenny read the text again, and shoved the phone into his pocket.

They’d had tickets to go to the museum together, but the message had arrived shortly after he’d gotten dressed. Throwing the tickets away had seemed like a waste, and Kitjo had the keys to the store, leaving Lenny with nothing to do for the remainder of the morning.

Which was how he'd ended up at the National Gallery Art museum, sat on a bench staring at a painting of the virgin Mary and a particularly ugly baby Jesus. It was 110 kronen and an hour of his life he would never get back.

The bench creaked as someone sat down next to him.

"No offense, but you look incredibly bored for someone who ostensibly paid to get into an art museum."

A man in a green scarf sat next to Lenny, hands jammed into his coat pockets and windswept hair hanging in his eyes.

Lenny shrugged. "Someone told me I should get some new interests."

"And what are the old ones?"

"Film. I work in a video store in Norrebro."

"Well, I'm not sure why they'd want you to change that particular interest," Green Scarf said with a laugh. He had an accent, English if Lenny’s guess was right. Perhaps he was an expat, or a traveller. "It's not as if you're into cannibalism, or, I don't know, elephant hunting."

"It's-" Lenny began, and shook his head. "It's nothing. Are you here as a tourist?"

"Not exactly. I'm here on work. I'm a journalist," Green Scarf said by way of explanation and stuck out his hand. "Adam Towers."

Lenny took Adam's hand in his. "Lenny."

Adam smiled and leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't tell my boss, but half the reason I took the job assignment was because I'd heard men in Denmark are quite handsome. And I have to say, the rumors are true."

Lenny swallowed hard. Adam stared at him with the kind of intensity that left him feeling like a moth pinned to a card, helpless and squirming under his gaze. His face went hot as he struggled for the words to form a proper response.

"Well. I don't know your boss, so," he said lamely.

Adam laughed. "And it's a lucky thing you don't, she's hell on wheels."

A woman in the gallery was staring at them, though Lenny was unsure whether it was for talking loudly or appearing to be holding hands. Their handshake had gone well past a socially acceptable greeting sometime ago.

 Adam's thumb was rubbing soft circles on the back of his hand. Lenny's mouth went dry.

"What do you say we get out of here? Maybe go to the cinema? You look like you'd be happier anywhere that doesn't involve renaissance art," Adam asked.

A man had flirted with Lenny once before, in a dark and smokey bar his friend Leo had dragged him to. He'd felt nervous then, stomach twisted with a mix of excitement and the feeling of doing something he shouldn't be, and excused himself before things would escalate. He hadn't been ready for the implications of that kind of thing.

Lenny checked the time on his phone. His stomach sank.

"I would but ah- I work in a film store," Lenny said and mentally kicked himself for repeating the fact. "I have to start soon."

Adam withdrew his hand. Lenny had to grip his museum pamphlet to keep himself from chasing its warmth.

It would have been simple to leave then; Adam rejected and Lea's message burning a hole in his pocket. But Adam had a friendly smile and the kind of floppy hair that gave Lenny the inexplicable urge to brush away from his eyes, implications be damned.

"But it's in Norrebro. On Falkevej street. You should come rent something," Lenny added before he could change his mind. "I'll recommend something for you."

Adam's grin had been waning, but he smiled again at the offer. "I'll look you up then, should I get bored."

"Good. Great. Bye!"

Lenny hit an old woman with his shoulder as he backed out of the room. She swore at him, telling him to look where he was going.

"Be careful," Adam called, waving and laughing.

Lenny jogged the rest of the way to the store, hand warm from Adam's grasp the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Rain pattered against the windows of the video store, running down the glass until their wet trails left the world outside blurry. Lenny leaned against the counter and watched people walk by; great shapes of fair hair and dark coats distorted by the glass. Not a single one had Adam’s green scarf or dark curls. 

Lenny sighed, absently tapping on the counter. 

Kitjo took a place at the counter next to him. “You’re acting like my kid sister.” 

Lenny looked over at him. “Huh?” 

“My kid sister. She’d get all,” Kitjo waved his hands around, gesturing vaguely and making exaggerated sad faces, “mopey and sit around staring outside. Usually over a boy.” 

Lenny’s face went hot. “I’m not moping over a boy,” he lied. 

It had been days since he’d gone to the museum and met Adam, but Adam had never come to the store. Lenny had done his best to put the feeling of disappointment from his mind, but he was dealing with that about as well as he was dealing with his texts from Lea. 

The phone felt like a brick in his pocket, weighing him down. She’d sent him another text the night before, asking what he was doing and when he could meet to talk to her. Perhaps when he got home he’d have to leave it off the charger all night and let the battery run out. 

“Yeah, I’d guess not, unless Lea is undergoing some big life changes,” Kitjo said as he pulled out his cigarettes. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little sick.” 

“No. I’m fine. I was thinking about something I was going to do, but I think it’s not going to happen,” Lenny said. “I think I’m going to go find something to watch. Nobody is going to come in with this weather.” 

“Alright. But if anything’s up you can tell me about it,okay?” 

“Yeah. Thanks.”  


\---

 

Lenny tucked his chin down into the high collar of his coat, breath puffing out in little clouds of smoke in the night air. It smelled like rain, and if he didn't hurry to lock up the shop he'd be caught in the dark with no umbrella.

Fingers half-numb, he fumbled with the keys, nearly dropping them. “Shit,” he hissed. 

"Did you know there’s another video store right down the street from this one?" Adam's voice said from behind him. 

Lenny jumped. The keys clattered to the ground. "You came." 

“I did.” Adam stooped to pick up the keys and hand them back to Lenny, smiling. “I got finished with with my work for the day a bit early and found all I really remembered from going to the museum was the cute man who plows over old women in his rus to get away from me. How could I not track you down?” 

Lenny blushed. ” I'm sorry I didn't tell you the address properly” 

Adam waved his apology off. "It's made for an interesting evening of exploring. I'm not holding you up from going anywhere, am I?" 

Lenny bit his lip. He ought to go home. He ought to call Lea, or at least return her text and find out what was going on. He ought to watch one of the new films the store had just got in. There was an endless list of things he ought to do, and yet- 

Adam's wind chapped cheeks and hopeful grin were beguiling under the street lights. 

"No, no. Just finishing up here." Lenny ignored his phone's vibration in his pocket. "Do you want to get a drink? Beer? Coffee?" 

"You're the local. I'll leave it up to you." 

"Come on." 

Lenny's heart pounded as he led Adam down the street, past graffiti covered buildings and shuttered store fronts. The fact that Adam had taken the time and effort to seek him out after a one-off meeting played over and over at the back of his mind. 

Even when they'd sat down in a tiny table at a cafe not far from the video store, shucking their outerwear and waving over a waitress to order a pair of beers, he felt as if his throat were in a vice. It was too simple; too sensible. Nothing was ever this easy. No one sought Lenny out, especially not men like Adam. Men in general. 

Beer in hand, Adam peered at him over the edge of his menu. "So I'm going to assume Æblecrumble is apple crumble." 

"Let me see." Lenny scooted his chair around so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. He looked at the word Adam was pointing at. "Yeah. You don't know any Danish?" 

"Hardly a word. I admit, I've eaten a shameful amount of fast food since I got here last week," Adam said with a laugh. "Perhaps you should be my tutor." 

"Yeah, sure," Lenny said without thinking. 

They went down the menu, drinking and snickering at Adam's horrid pronunciation. Lenny belatedly realized, as he looked over at Adam squinting at the menu and sweetly sounding out the Danish names of food to himself, that to an outsider this would all have looked quite like a date. Perhaps it was. 

Lenny was unsure how to ask what it was they were doing. "So if you can't speak Danish, why did you get sent here?" he asked instead. 

"Well, I'm a crime journalist and apparently some little British socialite has gone off and got herself killed here in Copenhagen, so I'm reporting back on that. And-" Adam paused, considering how to continue his sentence, "my boss thought it was a good idea for me to get some time away from home, after some things that happened." 

Lenny frowned. "What happened? Are you okay?" 

"It was nothing. Don't worry about it," Adam said. The pinched look creeping onto his face said otherwise. "Anyways, enough about my horrible Danish and my tragic life, tell me about yourself." 

Lenny picked at the label on his beer bottle. From how close they were he could smell Adam's cologne; something warm and spicy. He took a deep breath. 

"I don't know what there is to tell," he said. 

"You must like films if you work a video shop. Tell me about that," Adam suggested. 

Lenny paused, weighing the how many people in his life had told him to shut up about film against the fact that Adam had walked at least ten blocks from the bus stop to ask him about it. 

"I like horror films. Most people don’t like to hear about them much,” Lenny said. 

“No one likes to hear about crime journalism much either,” Adam countered. “I was sat at my desk a couple weeks ago writing about how a man had been dismembered with a hacksaw. Even my editor turned a little green when he read the details.” 

“Sounds very Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” 

“It _was_ very Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” Adam rubbed at his face. “God, look at us, sitting here smiling over someone’s gruesome death.” 

Lenny laughed around his beer bottle, mid-drink. 

“You’ve got-” Adam said and reached over, his thumb swiping a trail of spilled beer off the corner of Lenny’s mouth. 

Lenny’s lips tingled at the touch. “So ah, do you like slasher films?” 

“You know, I’ve only ever seen a couple. I do prefer the monster kind, like Freddy, or Jason,” Adam said. “I deal with enough true crime in my personal life to watch it at home as well.” 

“Yeah. I understand that,” Lenny said with a nod. “There’s this film by Mario Bava, Bay of Blood. It’s re-running at the cinema, it’s was a big influence on the whole genre.” 

“Perhaps we should go see it sometime.” Adam smiled and nudged Lenny’s ankle with his foot. “While I’m here and all.” 

Lenny’s heart fell with the reminder that Adam’s presence was temporary. He tried not to let it show on his face; it was absurd to feel attached someone he’d met twice, even if that someone was dangerously easy in their affection toward him.  

“How long will you stay in Denmark?” 

Adam rubbed a hand over his face, having a sigh. “A minimum of six weeks? Though they’ve got no lead on the killer and no motive yet so it could more. Maybe less if a miracle happens and someone turns themself in, but that hardly ever happens. My boss has promised me the time regardless so we’ll have to see.” 

“Then we’ll have to go to the cinema soon.” 

“Yes.” Adam leaned back in his chair, ankle still casually resting against Lenny’s in the most distracting of ways. “You know it’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t get all squirmy when I mention the cases I’m writing about.” 

Lenny smiled at his lap. “It’s nice to talk to someone about the films I like.” 

Adam drained the remainder of his beer. Lenny watched, pleasantly warm from his drink, as the fair skin of Adam’s throat bobbed with each swallow. Some alcohol-soaked part of his brain thought of how nice it would be to run his lips over that skin, pepper it with sucks and bites and- 

The clink of glass on the table and Adam’s voice pulled him out of his fantasy. “Then you should tell me more. Hit me with the finer points of the slasher genre.” 

As they talked into the evening Adam’s ankle stayed firmly planted against Lenny’s; occasionally rubbing back and forth against his leg. Lenny had never been more comfortably distracted in his life. 

 

\---

 

"You're late." 

Lenny waved smoke out of his face and hung up his coat. He'd told Kitjo not to smoke in the shop, it was going to make the VHS boxes yellow and smell bad. Kitjo had said they were already yellow and smelly, and it made no difference. 

"I was up late last night. I overslept," Lenny said. "Do we have returns?" 

Kitjo pointed to a stack of videos on the counter. "Late because you were in bed with Lea?" 

Late because Adam had listened with rapt attention as Lenny went over the tropes of the horror genre, only interjecting to enthuse about movies he'd already seen. They'd been four beers in when Adam had reluctantly excused himself on grounds of having an early skype meeting the next day, though he hadn't left without scrawling his phone number across Lenny's arm. 

The digits were still there, faded after a shower. Lenny tugged down his sleeve to cover them. "No. I haven't seen her in a while." 

"How long is a while?" 

Lenny shrugged, and said "Maybe two weeks? I don't know." 

"That's a long fucking time for a man to go without seeing his girl." Kitjo frowned and ashed his cigarette into an old soda can. "You've found someone else, haven't you?" 

"What? No." 

Kitjo looked him up and down. "Yeah, there's someone else. You've got that dumb, giddy look. The one you get when there's a new Bruce Lee out, or you steal some cute girl's pen. Who is she?" 

"There is no other girl," Lenny insisted. He picked through the pile of returns in silence, nose burning from the smoke trailing off Kitjo’s cigarette. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah?” 

“How do you know if you’re interested in someone?” 

“Like, how do I personally know?” Kitjo asked. 

Lenny nodded. “Yeah.” 

“I don’t know. I feel excited to be with them. That kind of scared-excited you get before you go down a hill on a roller-coaster. You like roller-coasters?” 

“I hate roller-coasters.” 

“Oh.” 

“But it’s not a bad scared?” Lenny asked. “With Lea it was never a good scared. I kind of felt sick when I talked to her at first.” 

“How about now?” 

“I feel like I’m always messing up when we talk. I don’t even feel anything when we kiss. Just stressed,” he confessed before he could stop himself. 

_You don’t feel like you’re messing up with Adam_ , his traitorous brain reminded him. Lenny grabbed a pen to write down late fees. 

Kitjo stubbed out his cigarette. “How about the other person? Don’t be a shithead and lie to me, there is another person. I can tell by your face.” 

Lenny chewed on the cap of the pen and stared at the counter. “It’s different. But I don’t know what they want from me, or how to go after them. And Lea texted me the other day saying we need to talk. I haven't figured out what to say." 

"Say there's another girl?" Kitjo suggested. 

“You’re no help.” Lenny rolled his eyes and grabbed a stack of films, heading to the back of the shop. 

The red lights of the back room glowed, casting an ugly shadow over the VHS boxes on the shelves. The covers of the porno tapes were gaudy; adorned with big-busted actresses and ridiculously ripped men in speedos. Lenny had watched one or two of the most vanilla boy/girl tapes on the shelf in front of him, only to end up bored by the false screeching and over-acting. He turned toward a different shelf.

Quietly, he set a video aside to sneak into his bag at the end of the day, and continued stocking the rest.


End file.
